


And if you see my friends, tell them I'm fine

by bluebells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PTSD, Post-Cage Fic, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have been pushed beyond any sane limit, but they have not been (completely) broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And if you see my friends, tell them I'm fine

**Author's Note:**

> A commentfic originally written for ravenspear.

Adam rolls out of bed first in the morning before the sunrise. He sits on the front porch, breath misting in the cold, just to be in the open air. One day Jimmy stumbles out early enough to see him there, phone pressed to his lips, and wonders if there’s somebody Adam needs to call.

Adam doesn’t like riding in cars. The bus is bearable, but until Jimmy had proven Adam couldn’t walk everywhere and still be on time, it was almost impossible to get him up those steps onto the public transport.

“I don’t need to be there on time,” Adam had shrugged.

“Adam, you could lose your job,” Jimmy argued.

Adam didn’t seem to hear him and just turned down the street with his hands in his jacket.

Jimmy sighs and their grocery bags sag in his arms.

On some days, Adam just didn’t care and Jimmy didn’t have the strength to make him.

They used to be more than this.

Adam has waking nightmares Jimmy can’t wake him from. He’s dangerous when they come on and it feels like some vicious betrayal, but Jimmy has to step outside the bedroom; let Adam ride them out on his own. They learned that the second time Adam came around and saw the bruises on Jimmy’s throat the morning after, the broken skin on his cheek and lip. The first time, it had been a lot easier to hide the effect of a few broken ribs.

The guilt in Adam’s eyes is worse than his own pain, so Jimmy agrees to lock the door.

Sometimes, it’s Jimmy that needs help. He’s woken up more than once on the ground with no memory of falling, or feeling ill in the slightest. The worst time, he fell in the street and woke up at the hospital with four stitches and a mild concussion. Some nights he wakes up on the floor of the lounge with his head pillowed in Adam’s lap while the other man flips through the TV channels like Jimmy chose to sprawl there. The only thing ruining the effect is the ice pack Adam holds to his temple.

It’s become ordinary.

Adam has phantom agony and the doctors can’t explain it ( _they_ know why). Adam hates doctors because they won’t increase his pain meds. Once upon a time he was going to be a doctor, too, but not anymore. They argue, just once, when Jimmy won’t buy him alcohol and then they never mention it again.

Jimmy has catatonic periods that can last for hours. Once, he blinked into awareness at the dining table, weak, and pained like he hadn’t eaten or drank in days. When he asks how long he’s been… absent, Adam’s eyes glaze over in that way Jimmy’s learned means he’s about to lie. He doesn’t ask anymore and just takes the food handed to him.

They don’t talk about it.

Adam sits beside him on the edge of the bed one night, almost leaning into him with the dip of the mattress.

There’s one bedside lamp on in the corner. It’s late. They’re tired. They’re always tired.

Jimmy finally moves, settling a hand on Adam’s knee. Adam looks at it, sighs, and wraps an arm around Jimmy’s waist. He rests his forehead on Jimmy’s shoulder when Jimmy’s thumb strokes his knee through the denim, but Jimmy’s watching the dark trees shake in the dim light of the street lamps outside.

Winter’s coming.

“I’m thinking of going to the park tomorrow,” Jimmy says. Tomorrow is Sunday.

Adam lifts his head and when Jimmy looks at him, there’s this small, wistful smile on his face.

They’re it. Despite the nightmares, the black-outs, the pain, and the apathy, they’re still here, and every night they still have this.

Adam leans in when Jimmy kisses him. He’s still smiling when they part and leans his forehead to Jimmy’s. Jimmy clutches the hand that winds through his and turns a deaf ear to the autumn wind howling outside.

“Do you want to come with me?”

“... Yeah.”


End file.
